Nancy recapitulated all that had passed.

“I say again, that it is false,” replied Cornbury.  “Where is the woman whom she states to have told her this?  This is nothing more than assertion, and I say again, it is false.  Am I to be condemned without proofs?  Is my life to be sacrificed to the animosity of this woman, who wishes to get rid of me, because—­”

“Because what?” interrupted Nancy.

“Because I was too well acquainted with you before your marriage, and can tell too much.”

“Now, curses on you, for a liar as well as a traitor!” exclaimed Nancy.  “What I was before I was married is well known; but it is well known, also, that I pleased my fancy, and could always choose.  I must, indeed, have had a sorry taste to be intimate with a blotched wretch like you.  Sir,” continued Nancy, turning to the leader, “it is false, and whatever may be said against me on other points, Nancy Dawson, or Nancy Corbett, was never yet so vile as to assert a lie.  I put it to you, sir, and to all of you, is not my word sufficient in this case?”

The smugglers nodded their heads in assent.

“And, now that is admitted, I will prove his villany and falsehood.  Philip Cornbury, do you know this paper?” cried Nancy, taking out of her bosom the agreement signed by Vanslyperken, which she had picked up on the night when Cornbury had torn it up and thrown it away.  “Do you know this paper, I ask you?  Read it, sir,” continued Nancy, handing it over to the leader of the smugglers.

The paper was read, and the inflexible countenance of the leader turned towards Cornbury,—­who saw his doom.

“Go in, Nancy Corbett, and let no women appear till all is over.”

“Liar!” said Nancy, spitting on the ground as she passed by Cornbury.

“Bind his eyes, and lead him to the western edge,” said the leader.

“Philip Cornbury, you have but few minutes to live.  In mercy, you may see the holy father, if you wish it.”

“I’m no d——­d papist,” replied Cornbury, in a sulky tone.

“Lead him on then.”

Cornbury was led to the western edge of the flat, where the cliff was most high and precipitous, and then made to kneel down.

“Fitzpatrick,” said the leader, pointing to the condemned.

Fitzpatrick walked up to the kneeling man with his loaded pistol, and then the others, who had led Cornbury to the edge of the cliff, retired.

Fitzpatrick cocked the lock.

“Would you like to say, ‘God have mercy on my treacherous sinful sowl,’ or anything short and sweet like that?” said Fitzpatrick; “if so, I’ll wait a couple of seconds more for your convanience, Philip Cornbury.”

Cornbury made no reply.  Fitzpatrick put the pistol to his ear, the ball whizzed through his brain, the body half raised itself from its knees with a strong muscular action, and then toppled over and disappeared down the side of the precipice.